


Give Me Another Chance (I Was Always Yours)

by historyziam



Category: One Direction (Band), Zayn Malik (Musician)
Genre: Angst, Anxiety, Flashbacks, Future Fic, Hopeful Ending, Larry is only mentioned - Freeform, M/M, OT4 Friendship, Pain Kink, Panic Attacks, Self-Esteem Issues, Smut, Zouis Reconciliation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-01
Updated: 2016-03-01
Packaged: 2018-05-23 22:09:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,580
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6131689
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/historyziam/pseuds/historyziam
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Liam gives him a thoughtful look, recalling the memories from years ago. “I was in awe of you. I told you that I thought you were incredible and I meant it.”</p><p>“I know,” Zayn says, softer this time. He steps closer and Liam feels his heart race. “It made me realise how much I missed you.”</p><p>Liam tenses, Zayn’s words making him feel cold all over. “No. You don’t get to stroll in after a year of-- of <i>nothing</i> and say that to me.”</p><p>Zayn lets out a sigh. “Li--”</p><p>“Because <i>you</i> left me, Zayn,” Liam interrupts, voice raised, but it cracks under the weight of his emotions. “I’d never have wanted you to stay in the band if that meant sacrificing your happiness. You knew that I would’ve been there for you no matter what. You <i>knew</i> and you cut off ties with me anyway.”</p><p> <br/>Or, Zayn leaves the band and takes Liam's heart with him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Give Me Another Chance (I Was Always Yours)

**Author's Note:**

> Hi!
> 
> This is my first fic on here (first fic _ever_ , really) so let me know what you think? The ending is pretty abrupt so I apologize in advance for that.

 

**2016**

 

Liam groans loudly when a sudden noise from the street below jolts him awake. He had tossed and turned in his bed for what felt like ages the previous night, only managing to fall asleep just as the first rays of sunlight begun to appear in the horizon. It isn’t that early -- the clock on his bedside table reads 9:54AM when he glances at it -- but after the rude awakening, he learns quickly that despite years of early reporting times as part of the band’s hectic schedules, he still isn’t a morning person.

It's been a few months since the band’s hiatus had officially started and Liam hasn’t been able to rest as much as he had expected to. He’s a light sleeper as it is, and his mind has the tendency to go into overdrive at the worst times, which doesn’t help his cause.

(If his difficulties falling asleep can be traced back to more than a year ago, ever since he’s had to sleep alone… well, he doesn’t really think about that.)

Liam drags himself to the bathroom, traitorous eyes fluttering shut despite his best efforts to keep them open. He looks at himself in the mirror and isn’t deeply impressed by what he sees. His ordinary brown eyes are weighed down by the bags under them, his skin slightly pale, and there is a smattering of stubble along his jawline. He takes a quick shower and chooses to forego shaving.

He’s in a considerably better mood when he goes downstairs after a fresh change of clothes. He heads to the kitchen, turns the radio on and sings along to an annoyingly catchy song that he would normally scoff at. He’s spreading peanut butter on a piece of bread when his phone rings. His hands are full, and he accidentally knocks the jar over with his elbow.

“Shit,” he mutters. He places the jar upright, licking away some of the spread that had gotten on his finger.

“I’m up,” Liam declares when he picks up after a few more rings. He already knows who the person on the line is without having to look at the caller ID.

“Good morning to you too,” Harry quips from the other end, slightly amused. “Studio in half an hour, yeah?”

Liam nods absentmindedly, before realizing a beat later that they’re on the phone and his bandmate can’t actually see him. “Yeah, see you.”

He hears Louis complain about it being ‘too fucking early’ in the background before he ends the call and it makes him chuckle. They’ve started organizing casual songwriting sessions as a band and it makes a world of a difference, not having the looming stress of an album deadline. They usually end up laughing and goofing around in the studio, sometimes with the company of alcohol or a spliff. Liam enjoys them a lot and if he’s being honest, it’s the only thing he’s been looking forward to lately. It seems like his life has become so centered around these boys; the three boys who have kept him grounded, especially so in the past year, just with their presence. It scares him to imagine a future without that comfort.

(He’d also never pictured a future without _him_ , either, but. He’s still learning to live with it, he supposes.)

Just as he finishes his breakfast, the doorbell chimes and startles him out of his reverie. He hasn’t gotten any visitors in a long time, at least not anyone who didn’t already have a copied key to the apartment. His first assumption is that it’s a stalkery fan, and he reaches for the door handle, ready to tell whoever they are to kindly _fuck off_. When he pulls it open, though, the words get stuck in his throat when his eyes land on the person he least expected to be standing in front of him.

“Hello,” Zayn lets out, careful and considering.

A short silence passes in which Liam can’t do anything but gape at him. Zayn’s hands are in his pockets and he shuffles slightly from side to side. It takes a while longer for Liam to register that it’s really him -- it’s _Zayn_ , and he looks as breathtakingly beautiful as Liam remembers. His hair is silvery white at the top and Liam knows that his arms are littered with a few new tattoos even though they’re covered by a leather jacket right now.

Liam’s seen him everywhere, of course; on magazines, newspapers, social media, even more so after his album was released, but it’s not nearly the same as compared to seeing him in person. It’s been more than a year since they last talked, let alone been in the same vicinity, and it catches him completely off guard.

Zayn’s lips tilt upwards into a small smile and suddenly Liam can’t _think_ , just feels every ounce of anger that he had kept hidden for so long make its way to the surface. He schools his expression to one of indifference.

“What are you doing here?” Liam asks in a frigid voice, tightening his grip on the handle.

The smile gets wiped off of Zayn’s face. His body language is so telling; like it’s taking all the willpower in the world for him not to bolt down the stairs.

“Well?” Liam urges.

“I... ” Zayn trails off. He shakes his head, straightens his body and looks right at Liam. “We need to talk. About everything.”

 

**2015**

 

Liam feels his face light up when he spots Zayn in the meeting room, but the smile Zayn gives him in return doesn't reach his eyes, and Liam can tell right away. He hears a familiar voice then and turns his head to the end of the table to see Simon in a hushed conversation with one of the management officials.

He raises an eyebrow inquiringly; Simon only ever shows up for the most crucial band matters or announcements and he doesn’t have any idea what the sudden meeting could be about. Liam walks over to take the seat next to Zayn as per normal, but Louis drags him to the opposite side of the room before he can. Liam feigns annoyance but laughs when Louis pokes at his sides teasingly.

“Good morning, everyone,” Simon greets when the people in the room have settled down. Liam tunes out Simon’s voice, his attention still fixed on Zayn who has kept his head down without so much as a glance at Liam. It is terribly unusual, and Liam notices that Zayn hasn’t stopped fiddling with his bracelet, the way he usually does when he's nervous. It fills Liam with a heavier feeling of panic as the meeting goes on, and it distracts him even more from listening to whatever’s being said.

“Zayn has made the decision to leave One Direction,” Simon announces and the entire meeting room is met with a deadly silence. Liam doesn’t think he’s heard him right, and the words ring in his ears, really only sinking in a couple of seconds after. All he can do is sit, frozen, in his chair.

“What the fuck?” Liam looks at Louis, and whatever happiness the older boy had expressed fifteen minutes ago has gone, replaced with complete and utter fury.

“Lou--” Harry begins but is cut off almost immediately.

“Wow,” Louis scoffs. “Nice way to let your bandmates know, Zayn. It’s not like we’ve been together for four years or anything.”

Zayn doesn’t respond, and Louis leans closer to the table, banging his fist on it. “ _Look at me_ , you coward.”

“ _Louis_ ,” Liam utters as a warning when Zayn visibly flinches at the loud sound. Liam doesn’t know what's going on, but it’s always come naturally to him, to protect and defend Zayn. He’s also aware that Louis does and says things without thinking sometimes and is letting his initial emotions cloud his judgment.

“Fuck off, I’m not doing this,” Louis turns to leave the room, but not before Liam picks up on the tremor in his voice. He looks on as Harry quickly goes after him, his forehead creased in worry. When Liam moves his gaze over to Niall and meets his eyes, he is deeply unsettled by what he finds there -- it isn’t shock, or anger, or disappointment… It’s _fear_.

Zayn remains in his seat, still staring at the table. Liam silently wills for him to just _look at me, damn it_ because all of this is _wrong, wrong, wrong_ and it can't be the truth. But Zayn stays quiet, and that in itself clearly tells Liam everything he needs to know for the moment. He can’t handle the strained atmosphere of the room anymore, so he follows his other bandmates out the door.

Liam makes a beeline for his hotel room, slamming the door behind him and throwing himself onto the couch. He plugs in his earphones, playing the music on high to drown out the white noise. He tries to rationalize the situation in his head. He believes -- wants to believe -- that Zayn wouldn’t have made such a rash decision without consulting the other boys. It's better than the alternative, which Liam pushes away and doesn't want to consider.

It’s excruciating, the thought that Zayn had likely not been loving his job, not loved what they do, in the same way that Liam does. He knows that Zayn had his moments where he no longer wanted the fame, what with their never-ending packed schedules, or when the insults thrown at him were too severe, or when he got too homesick, but _this_. He hadn’t expected that it would ever lead to this decision, and it kills him in a way he never thought possible.

He sees Zayn enter his hotel room from his peripheral vision and he feels something twist in his gut.

“Liam.”

There's a sense of familiarity in the way his name rolls on Zayn’s tongue but at the same time, it sounds so different to him. They're close together in proximity but Liam feels so detached, like he might as well be a thousand miles away.

“Liam,” Zayn tries again and it sounds like he's trying to keep his voice steady. Liam stands up and walks over to the mini-fridge, pointedly ignoring him. The urge to forget his anger and hold the other boy close to comfort him is strong, but he can't relent, not this time.

“Li, talk to me. Please,” Zayn pushes further. “I’m sorry.”

Liam’s lip twitches and he narrows his eyes at Zayn for a split second. He grips the canned drink he's holding with so much pressure that his knuckles turn white. He turns to walk away again but Zayn grabs his arm, causing him to pause in his step. Zayn’s touch makes his skin feel like it's on fire, slowly weakening his resolve with every passing second. Liam looks down at Zayn’s hand on his arm, covering the first arrow on the length of his tattoo, _Zayn’s_ arrow, and he gets the silliest thought about how he can’t leave because then the tattoo won’t make sense anymore.

“Why?” Liam asks, his voice hoarse.

“I haven’t been happy in a long time,” Zayn says softly, letting go of Liam’s arm.

“You could’ve told me,” Liam pauses. “Why did you let me hear it from them?”

“I didn’t-- didn’t know how,” Zayn stammers. “It wasn’t-- I didn’t know Simon was going to make the announcement until just before the meeting.”

The silence that comes after is way too deafening. Liam lifts his head to look at Zayn and it's almost like he sees someone much younger staring back at him, someone who's afraid and exhausted, but also someone who's had enough and has finally decided for himself that he doesn't want to feel that way anymore. It also makes him wonder if he ever really knew Zayn at all. He deflates; he's also tired and it's too much at once. The wound is fresh and he’s hurt, so he doesn’t want to end up saying anything that he might regret.

“I can’t talk to you. Not right now,” Liam says, stepping away from Zayn with his hands raised. “I need some time to process this. Don’t follow me.”

He walks out of the room. Zayn doesn’t. He gets the message.

 

**2016**

 

“Um, have a seat. Do you want something to drink?” Liam internally cringes at the pleasantries that leave his mouth. He doesn’t know what to label whatever the relationship is between him and Zayn now, but it’s odd, being so polite.

“No, thank you,” Zayn replies, setting himself on one of the couches.

“I’m going to make some tea,” he mumbles. He exhales when he reaches the kitchen, away from Zayn’s line of sight. He fumbles in his pocket for his phone and calls Harry, tells him that something that had come up and he’ll be late. Harry doesn’t push him for details, which he’s grateful for. Liam’s reluctant to mention Zayn anyway -- he remains a sensitive topic for all of them -- it only means that he won’t have to lie any more than necessary.

He walks back into the living room after a few minutes, tea forgotten. Zayn has left his spot on the couch and is peering at a framed picture on the wall. It's a new one that Liam had recently hung up; one of him, Harry, Louis, and Niall from their latest album's photoshoot. It makes his chest tighten uncomfortably, being reminded that it's a part of the band's history that Zayn wasn't involved in. Zayn turns around when he hears Liam walk in.

“It’s been more than a year and it’s still strange to see the band without me. But I suppose I never really counted myself, did I?” Zayn murmurs introspectively.

“I don’t think it’s something any of us can get used to,” Liam replies.

Zayn’s brows furrow in a pained expression. “Liam--”

Liam’s phone rings, and he’s relieved for another distraction. He’s about to excuse himself, thinking it’s Harry again, but he glances at the caller ID and a different name is reflected.

“One second,” he voices. “It's Ruth.”

Zayn takes his own phone out of his jacket, keeping his gaze down as he scrolls through it, giving Liam the chance to sneak a proper look at him. His hair is tousled, buzzed at the sides and it suits him (everything does). He’s let his beard grow out a bit more than usual. The white shirt he’s wearing under his jacket has a low enough cut that it exposes a part of his chest tattoo and Liam’s first thought is how much he used to love peppering kisses and leaving marks on the skin there. He’s more than a little disconcerted by that reaction, so he tears his eyes away.

He realises that he's only half-listening to what Ruth is saying when the line at the other end goes quiet as she awaits a response.

“Oh, the address, okay, I’ll get it from Soph,” he mumbles. “I know, I’ll call her later Roo. Bye, love you.”

“She’s, uh, she’s still around?” Zayn asks after a pause. Liam's jaw clenches, and he tightens his grip on his phone.

“ _She_ has a name, it’s Sophia. It’s been years, you could finally learn it,” he snaps, annoyance building up inside him.

“Sorry,” Zayn responds, frowning and Liam is furious at the stab of guilt that look gives him. “I just thought--”

“We’re still friends,” Liam asserts. “She’s great. But we’re not, we were never-- I wouldn’t do that.”

 _To you_ , he continues in his head, and he thinks about how ludicrous it is because it doesn't _matter_ now, he doesn’t have to reassure Zayn of anything, but he also has no legitimate reason to justify Zayn’s dislike for her any longer (not that there ever _was_ one, but Liam gets it, he’d been through the same with Perrie).

“I, uh, went to the Surrey house last week,” Zayn changes the subject. He picks at a loose string on his jacket. “Neighbours said they’ve only seen you a couple of times since promo for the album ended.”

 _It reminds me too much of you_ , is what he thinks of. _I might be thinking of selling it_ , is what he could say, but Zayn would be all too aware of why he wants to do so and sympathy is the last thing Liam needs.

“I’ve been here, mostly. Shorter commute,” he reasons, and it’s half-true. “Sometimes with Niall or Andy. Stayed at Haz and Lou’s for a few days but I got tired of being the third wheel, you know how it is,” he lets out a short laugh. Zayn nods absently, slight discomfort crossing his face at the mention of the other boys. It makes Liam grimace, and it’s one of the many issues they need to clear the air about, but he finds that he just can’t be here with him right now.

“Actually, I have to go,” he announces. “The boys are waiting for me at the studio.”

“Oh, okay, yeah,” Zayn replies. “Do you-- um, could I stay here, hang around for a bit?”

“Uh, sure,” Liam says, reaching for his car keys on the table. “There’s beer in the fridge, movies in the bottom drawer below the telly, and th--”

“Li,” Zayn interrupts, and his expression changes in a way that signifies he hadn’t intentionally meant to refer to Liam by his nickname. “I remember where everything is.”

“Right. I’ll… see you later, then.”

 

***

 

Liam walks into the room in the recording studio that they’ve booked for the day. Three heads whip to face him as he enters.

“Payno!” Niall greets, getting up from his position on the couch to give him a hug.

“Finally decided to grace us with your presence?” Louis remarks cheekily before doing the same. Harry comes up from behind him, flashing his signature dimpled grin. Liam finds himself relaxing a tiny bit as he returns the smile.

“You alright?” Harry asks right before they break away, softly enough that only Liam hears him.

“Fine,” Liam grunts.

Liam isn't feeling up to writing and recording, and it's evident from the way he acts as their time in the studio goes on. He half-heartedly provides input, unintentionally tunes himself out and misses parts of their discussions, and he even snaps at Niall for chewing too loudly. He stares at the piece of paper in front of him, trying to get the lyrics to flow, but his mind is drawing a blank. Louis, who’s seated next to him, is fidgeting non-stop in his chair, tapping his pen against the surface of the mixer repeatedly. It’s what he does when he really wants to say something but is debating if he should and it makes Liam grit his teeth in irritation.

“What?” Liam finally breaks first, turning in his chair to face Louis.

“What do you mean, what?” Louis asks, parroting his words and movement.

“If you want to say something, say it,” Liam urges.

Louis sighs. “What’s going on with you?” he asks carefully, pausing as if trying to gauge Liam’s reaction. “You’ve been acting weird since you got here.”

Liam looks over to the other side of the room, where Niall and Harry have their attention turned to them. They're all looking at him expectantly and he can't bring himself to lie, even more so when it feels like he might explode if he doesn't tell someone what happened.

“It's Zayn, um, he came to my apartment this morning,” Liam admits. He watches as comprehension dawns on each of their faces. “He wants to talk.”

“Oh. Well. That makes me the only one who hasn't talked to him then,” Louis says, and Liam knows it's meant to be an offhand comment but he senses the connotations behind his words.

“It won't last. There's not really anything I want to hear from him,” Liam responds petulantly.

“Liam,” Harry pipes up. “I get that you're angry but--”

“I mean, what's done is done, right?” Liam continues, intercepting his sentence. “I mean, he left and we broke up. And now he decides to come back out of nowhere? Fuck that.”

“No one’s askin' you to forgive him right away,” Niall interjects this time. “But he wants to make it right, innit? That has to count for something.”

“Easy for you to say when it’s not you he’s been ignoring for the past year,” Liam retorts. He promptly regrets his words when he sees something close to distress cloud Niall’s blue eyes. “Sorry, I’m just-- I need some air.”

Liam steps outside the building and revels in the cool afternoon winds. He lets out a breath he feels like he’s held since Zayn showed up on his doorstep and thinks about how, just like that, he’d gone and ruined every single effort Liam had put in to stop loving him.

 

**2015**

 

Liam is standing near the platform that will rise and lift him up to the stage, his microphone in one hand and his other clenched into a fist. He shifts himself left and right, trying to get himself pumped for the upcoming show even though he feels anything but energized. He wants to go back to the hotel there in Australia, crawl into bed and sleep the hours (and his problems) away.

"Hey," he hears Zayn say and he almost swerves to face the other boy when he hears his voice. He can't believe that it would be directed at him, at least not when they were alone and not after the stilted conversation they’d had a few days before. It brings him relief of some sort because it's been agonizing, not talking to Zayn. He’s his center, his rock, and it feels like his life is drifting off balance and he's falling, or maybe he’s already fallen, hard, in the worst way possible, and he needs Zayn to just _be_ there, while he still can. He makes Liam the happiest and saddest person alive at the same time and that's something he can't explain.

Zayn's eyes are hollow, holding a deeper kind of pain that fills Liam with overwhelming frustration. He doesn’t know how to make it better. That’s what he’s been mulling over, really, the fact that his presence wasn’t enough to prevent Zayn from making that final decision, and he could’ve done more, so much more, if he only knew, but it’s too late now. It only makes the inner taunts of “ _you're so fucking useless, Liam_ ” and “ _what did Zayn ever see in you, you’re an awful boyfriend”_ ring true.

Liam wants to understand Zayn’s choice, he does, but he can't help the tiny bit of resentment that’s slowly gnawing at his insides. There’s anger too, and he's never been genuinely angry at Zayn, but it's _there_ and he’s a ticking time bomb that could blow up at any second. It’s selfish and he hates himself for it.

Liam doesn’t reply, but raises his eyebrows, waiting for Zayn to continue.

“Dubai,” he says. “My last show.”

Liam’s body goes taut of its own accord and a million things go through his mind at once. Zayn searches Liam’s face for a sign of acknowledgement but it hits Liam like a truck, the fact that he won’t, _can’t_ believe that Zayn means what he’s saying, that this is _real_ , he truly wants to quit the band and is going to go through with it. They're nothing without him. Liam’s nothing without him.

“Zayn, please.” It comes out as a whisper, almost pleading, barely audible over the din of the screaming fans above.

“I’m sorry,” Zayn continues, staring down at his shoes. “I wanted you to know this first, Li, ‘cause I lov--”

At that exact moment, the platforms come alive with a low roaring sound, cueing the boys to step up on them and Liam is thankful for the timing of it. He turns away, squeezing his eyes tight, wanting this to be a dream and that he’ll wake up to find that the band -- the band the world thought was indestructible -- isn’t actually beginning to fall apart at the seams.

Liam hears the taps of Zayn’s shoes against the ground as he jogs over to his own spot and half a minute later, they get lifted to thousands of fans. Everything is different as the opening song starts, they're not _ZaynandLiam_ anymore, they're worldwide superstars Zayn Malik and Liam Payne from One Direction. Liam sings, smiles, reads out silly fan signs, and messes about with the other boys, even though he’s screaming on the inside with the knowledge that it’s one of Zayn’s last shows with them, but he can pretend. He’s spent a lot of time pretending after all.

 

***

 

Liam is alone in his hotel room, staring at the ceiling. It’s been a few weeks and Zayn has bowed out of their past three shows in Asia. _He’s tired and stressed_ , their tour manager had told the rest of them before their first show there. Liam wouldn’t have known, he hadn’t had a full conversation with him in days. None of the other boys have, and it doesn’t sit well with Liam. The five of them have had disagreements and their fair share of fights, but it hasn't been like this. One of them would always end up talking or joking with the other person by the next day at the latest, forgetting about the argument entirely. This time, however, it feels like they're entering unchartered waters with no way out.

Zayn’s still been around, just cooped up in his own hotel room. Liam’s hopeful that he’ll join the boys for the rest of the leg like he was meant to, but a small part of him thinks that it seems kind of final, like this is happening so that they, and their fans, can begin to get used to his absence.

He itches to talk to someone, so he reaches for his phone, combing through his contacts for the one person in the world who’s been nothing but supportive of his relationship with Zayn and who can bring him the most comfort.

“Mum,” he gets out when the call is picked up.

“Liam, are you alright?” Karen asks.

“No,” Liam replies, his mother’s soothing voice proving to be too much for him when he gets choked up. “I-- I’ve been giving Zayn the cold shoulder and it’s not fair to him, but at the same time, I can’t help how I feel.”

“It’s okay to be upset, sweetheart. I’m sure Zayn understands.”

Liam remains silent, listening to his own shallow breathing, and Karen waits patiently on the other end, giving him the time he needs.

“Have you ever felt like your relationship with Dad wouldn’t work out because of a decision he made?” Liam eventually asks.

“I can’t say I have, dear. I didn’t and still don’t agree with a few of your father’s choices. I’ve been there to be proven wrong, and I’ve also had to pick up the pieces during the bad times. But I love the man anyway.”

“And that’s-- that’s enough?”

“To me, it is,” Karen says. “You love Zayn, don’t you?”

Then it just clicks somehow, because fuck, he _does_ love Zayn, he’s so in love with him, he’s sure of that, and supporting him on this should have been a no-brainer right from the start. He’d taken too long to figure out his feelings before but Zayn needs him, that’s all that should matter. He stays on the phone for a while longer, promising Karen that he’ll take care of himself and to call home more. He needs to see Zayn, so he shrugs on a shirt and walks out of his room. He double checks that the door is locked. When he turns around, he almost bumps into Louis in the hallway. Louis’ eyes are rimmed a light shade of red, but he doesn't immediately think anything of it, just attributes it to his lack of sleep.

“I'm going to Zayn’s room,” Liam tells him.

“Wait,” Louis blurts before Liam can walk past him to the other end of the hall. “He won't be there, Li.”

Liam stops, tilting his head to the side. He notices it now, the utter devastation in Louis’ expression. He had seen it only once before, after Louis and Harry had their biggest, most serious argument and he’d thought Harry was going to break up with him.

“What d’you mean?” Liam asks as dread settles in.

“He's gone. He left a few hours ago, he's on a plane to London. They're releasing the statement later.”

Liam steps back until he hits the wall. “No.”

“Li, it'll be oka--” Louis assures, reaching out, but Liam jerks his arm away.

“You're lying!” he yells. “He wouldn't, he-- he would've said goodbye, he--”

He gulps down the heaviness that's formed in his throat.

“He didn't say goodbye,” Liam whimpers. He tries to push aside Zayn’s voice that choruses in his head, his promises of _right next to you Liam_ and _I’ll stay with you Liam_ , hurt coursing through his veins because Zayn had never meant them the way Liam thought he did. Maybe at first, but not anymore. So this time, when Louis pulls him into a hug, he melts into it, pressing his face against his shoulder as his body shakes with inconsolable sobs.

He cries well into the night, never letting his phone leave his hand as he dials and redials Zayn’s number, leaving messages with ‘ _I love you_ ’s and ‘ _please call me back_ ’s and other things he didn’t say but should have, wondering if it’s too late.

 

**2016**

 

It’s just after 10 when Liam drags his feet to his apartment door. The shirt he’s wearing sticks to his body uncomfortably after he got caught in the heavy rain that had come pouring down during the journey back. He tries to get a firm grip on his key that slides between his wet fingers and it takes a few attempts before he gets it in the lock. When he'd gone back into the studio, the other boys didn't try to convince him further or bring Zayn up again at all, and that was a testament to how much they knew him.

He walks into the apartment, half-expecting it to be empty but Zayn is still in the living room, sprawled on the couch.

“Hey,” Zayn says, shifting his gaze from the television screen to Liam when the door shuts behind him. “How was it?”

“Good,” Liam lies, eyes flitting to the show Zayn’s watching. “Friends, again?”

“Oh, yeah, there was nothin’ else on,” he quips sheepishly.

It’s one of the thanksgiving episodes, also one of Zayn’s favourites. Liam sits at the opposite end of the couch and they watch it together. When it gets to the part where Joey gets his head stuck in a turkey, Liam looks over at Zayn to see his face brighten, tongue sticking out between his teeth, his body shaking as he chortles. It’s an all too familiar sight, seeming almost _normal_ but there’s nothing normal between them now. It cuts like a knife, the feeling of missing someone. Even though Liam’s right beside Zayn, he has never missed him more.

Zayn’s laughter dies down and he suddenly turns towards Liam, who’s still watching him. Liam feels exposed; his expression so open that Zayn catches on instantaneously, his face scrunching out of discomfort now instead of humour.

“Um, I should probably go,” Zayn says. He stands up and reaches for his jacket, moving behind the couch and to the door.

“Wait,” Liam blurts just before Zayn can get his hand around the door handle. “It’s storming out. You, uh, you can stay, for the night. If you want.”

“Are-- are you sure?” Zayn asks, facing him. He’s giving Liam the opportunity to change his mind and Liam should, he really fucking _should_ but he can’t.

“Yeah, ‘s all good,” Liam assures.

“Okay,” Zayn concedes after a moment’s pause.

“C’mon, I’ll get you something to change into.”

He walks up the stairs to his bedroom with Zayn on his heel. Zayn stops at the door, leans against the frame and crosses his arms over his body. Liam opens a drawer to look for a shirt that would be a good fit on Zayn, humming along to a tune that’s been stuck in the back of his mind. He turns to toss the shirt to him, but pauses when he notices Zayn staring at him oddly.

“What?” Liam asks, feeling self-conscious.

“The song you were humming,” he says. “It’s on my album. It’s You.”

_Who would be 'you'? Who would be the you you'd point at and sing that song to?_

_Probably you, Liam. It's gotta be Liam._

“Oh,” Liam’s cheeks heat up in part from embarrassment. “I didn’t realise. Um, I listened to the album. It's sick, mate.”

“Thanks,” Zayn says, giving him a small, bashful smile. “It means a lot, coming from you. You know that.”

Liam does. They've always shared the same taste in music, and before Zayn left the band, they'd regularly pull all-nighters in the studio, recording ad libs and penning down dirty lyrics as a way to escape their hectic, structured schedules.

(It wasn't easy to pretend that most of the songs on the album weren't about him.)

“You, uh, you got some new tats,” Zayn adds, stepping closer to him. Zayn's eyes trail the tattoos on Liam's hand to his arm. Liam feels himself stiffen under the scrutiny. He gets anxious about one in particular, the cursive writing of “we are the quiet ones” just before his elbow that it is so, so obviously about them and Liam can’t _breathe_.

He lifts his head, but Zayn isn't looking at his tattoos anymore. His attention is focused directly on him, meeting his eyes for a few seconds before he drops his gaze to his lips. Liam mirrors his action, and before he can even think of what he’s doing, his lips are on Zayn’s. Zayn reacts to the kiss instantly, pushing their bodies flush together. Liam hesitates for a moment as Zayn’s nipping at his bottom lip, because they don't just _do_ this anymore.

A voice inside Liam's head is screaming at him to stop before it goes any further, but he can't seem to care enough to listen to it. His body is quickly reacting to Zayn’s touch like it's natural to him. He wants Zayn like this, wants to ruin him until he's a writhing mess and begging for it.  _Just this one time_ , he reasons, _just to get it out of our systems again_.

Liam takes the reigns, turns and shoves the other boy against the nearest wall. Liam kisses along his jaw and neck, rutting against him and feeling the press of his length against his thigh. He fists Zayn’s hair in his hands, tugging at it with force, a part of him _wanting_ to hurt the other boy, for the times he's hurt him. Liam’s hands roam until he's palming Zayn through his jeans, feeling his own dick twitch when Zayn groans. He detaches himself from Zayn to peel his wet shirt off, almost ripping it in haste. He throws it mindlessly onto the floor beside them before pulling Zayn’s shirt off of him and doing the same.

Zayn guides them to the bed as Liam fumbles to unbuckle Zayn’s jeans. When he tugs them down, Zayn almost trips trying to get out of them. Liam holds him securely by the waist and pushes him lightly onto the bed. Zayn props himself up on his elbows, eyes dark as he watches Liam take his jeans off, which becomes a bit of a chore as Liam feels himself burn up just from the way Zayn’s looking at him. Liam eventually joins him on the bed, hovering on top of him as he touches every inch of skin he can lay his hands on, like he's making up for all the time he's lost not being able to do this. Zayn tugs him up, their lips catching in another kiss and it’s desperate, sloppy, insistent and Liam can't get enough.

He moves downwards to lick at Zayn’s happy trail, to the sensitive skin on the insides of his thighs. He takes his own time, even though it's obvious that Zayn is painfully hard, his cock left unattended, leaving streaks of precome on his stomach. He can feel Zayn start to tremble with frustration and he lifts his own hand to offer himself some relief but Liam slaps it away before he can.

“Liam,” Zayn gets out, desperate.

“Tell me what you want, Zayn,” Liam murmurs against Zayn’s thigh.

“Fuck me,” he pleads. “Just, fuck, get _in_ me.”

Liam pulls open the drawer of his bedside table, fumbling around until he finds what he’s looking for; a bottle of lube and a condom. He slicks his fingers with the lube, brushes them against the rim of Zayn’s hole before easing them in, one at a time. Liam realises that he’s missed Zayn like this, spread out and pliant underneath him.

“Liam, please, I’m ready,” Zayn affirms after a while.

“So eager,” Liam says. “Missed my cock that much?”

Zayn lets out a whine as Liam rolls on the condom, positioning himself at Zayn’s entrance before pushing in slowly. He takes a breath, blanketing himself over Zayn's body as he builds a steady rhythm.

“So good,” Zayn gasps. “Shit, so good, baby.”

Liam stills for a second at Zayn’s slip of the endearment, before snapping his hips and thrusting deeper and harder into him.

“Don't. Call. Me. That,” Liam grunts, punctuating every word with an occupying thrust. Zayn winces at the sudden jerk of movement and Liam feels that pang of satisfaction again, but he slows his pace.

“‘M close,” Zayn says. Liam wraps a hand around Zayn’s cock, giving it a few uncoordinated tugs before Zayn's coming with a shout. Liam follows soon after, biting down on Zayn’s shoulder as his entire body shudders with his release. He catches his breath, disposing the condom before lying down next to Zayn, who’s also still coming down from his high. He begrudgingly gets off the bed after a few minutes to grab a towel from the bathroom to wipe the both of them clean.

“C’mere, Li,” Zayn mumbles when he’s done. “Sleep.”

_You know I can’t sleep without you babe. You’re like my teddy bear._

“Okay,” Liam replies hoarsely. He gets into the bed, maintaining a sizeable distance from the other boy. It feels a hundred times more intimate than it was just minutes ago. He stays up long after Zayn’s soft snores fill the room.

 

**2015**

 

Liam tries to slow the erratic beating of his heart as his driver pulls over at Zayn’s driveway. Liam hadn’t even planned this; had come straight to Zayn’s apartment in London from the airport after the Asian tour leg had ended. The past two weeks had been nothing short of a nightmare, from him leaving early, to the statement on Facebook that sent the fandom into a frenzy. Zayn hasn’t replied to any of his calls or texts and he desperately needs some answers.

Liam maintains a quick pace to the door and knocks before he can change his mind. A few moments later it swings open, and Liam almost gasps at the sight of Zayn. He looks exhausted, face pale, the usual mischievous glint in his eyes no longer there.

“Liam,” Zayn says by way of greeting, his expression a mix of surprise and uneasiness.

“Hi, Zayn. Can I come in?” Liam asks, notices the slight twitch of hesitation in Zayn’s movements. “Please?”

Zayn pulls the door open further, leaving some space for him, and Liam steps inside gratefully. 

“Wow, you really changed this place up,” Liam comments, looking around at the new pieces of furniture and art as he walks further into the apartment.

“Yeah, thought it could use some colour,” Zayn replies and it’s silent for a long while.

“Liam--” “I--” They say at the same time.

“Why didn’t you call, Zayn?” Liam asks, his voice breaking.

Zayn can’t meet his eyes. “I didn’t know what to say.”

Liam steps forward, too close to Zayn now but he doesn’t move. Liam takes it as a cue to tentatively rest his forehead on his.

“I love you,” Liam says, but he knows he's made a mistake when Zayn tenses beneath his touch. He pushes Liam away with enough force that he stumbles backwards.

“Don't say that,” Zayn mutters flatly. “Fuck, Liam, I left you without a word. I don’t deserve it. You’re supposed to hate me.”

Liam scrunches his forehead in confusion. It's preposterous and almost offensive, he thinks, that Zayn believes he could ever harbour such feelings for him or would leave things as they are without checking up on him. Everything around them may have gone to shit but they have always been constant. Zayn’s always been Liam’s constant.

“I love you,” Liam repeats, as if to remind him. "I love you so much, baby, that hasn’t changed.”

Zayn shakes his head. “No, I-- I can’t do this… us, anymore.”

Liam stares at him dumbly, like he can’t quite process what he’s hearing.

“You… want to break up?” Liam asks, the idea of it so foreign to him that the words don’t sound right coming out of his mouth. There is nothing he can read in Zayn’s eyes, no matter how hard he searches, his pupils hard and emotionless. Liam doesn’t understand. Zayn always wore his heart on his sleeve, is the thing. But the boy in front of him no longer does. “I know it took me some time to accept your decision and I’m sorry, okay? I wasn’t fair to you. But I’m here now. I want us to work it out.”

“That’s not the reason, Liam. I just think, with the way things are right now, it’ll be better for the both of us if we’re not together.”

“That makes no fucking sense. When we first got together you-- you said we were in this for the long haul, no matter what,” Liam spits, an accusing lilt to his tone that’s just bordering on bitterness.

“I know what I said,” Zayn retorts. Something in Liam’s expression causes him to close his eyes and take a deep breath. “Things change.”

He turns away from Liam then, crossing his arms over his body. “I think you should go.”

It’s the last thing Liam wants to do since he hasn’t gotten the answers he’s looking for and a part of him doesn’t believe that Zayn is serious about this, but he realises that he’d be fighting a losing battle.

“You’re pushing away someone who truly cares about you. I guess Louis was right,” he says. “You _are_ a coward.”

A part of him is glad that he can’t see Zayn’s reaction to his words. It’s childish and spiteful, and he knows he’ll regret it later, but right now he has nothing else to lose.

 

*******

 

The tour break goes on, and Liam takes it a day at a time, Zayn never once leaving his mind. He forces himself to look presentable when their first major awards show as a four-piece rolls around. He grudgingly plasters on a smile for the interviews even though he would rather be anywhere else. He’s initially relaxed when the interviewers start off with the run-of-the-mill questions about the tour and the new album that he can answer well enough after rounds of training.

They eventually bring up Zayn, it was bound to happen eventually, and he tries to clamp down the sick feeling he gets. He’s been the main spokesperson for the band since day one, and this time’s no different, so he gives a generic, rehearsed answer about the rest of the boys being closer than ever. It satiates the interviewers, and Liam is relieved.

Later, when they get onstage to accept their award, all Liam knows is that he can’t -- won’t -- make the world believe that none of them care about Zayn any longer, especially not him, despite the repercussions he'll be sure to face from their management later. Because he does care, without exception, even if they’re not together anymore. No matter what their personal feelings are, Zayn was in the band for years and Liam isn't about to let his contributions be ignored.

“There’s one more person to share this with, and that’s our brother, Zayn,” Liam says into the microphone. He holds their award up in the air to rousing cheers from the audience. _I’m sorry_ , is the hidden message he hopes Zayn catches onto. _We’re okay_.

 

*******

 

 _I figured it out_  
_Saw the mistakes of up and down_  
_Meet in the middle_ _  
There’s always room for common ground_

Liam closes his eyes when he sings the verse, hoping that his voice doesn't waver. It’s the first time since Zayn left that he’s singing the song -- the one he sings to Zayn, it’s _their_ song, after all -- and when he glances to his right out of habit, at the empty space where Zayn used to stand, he’s reminded that he won’t get to do that anymore. It was an innate pull that Liam felt towards Zayn while on stage. They were unfailingly aware of where the other was and what they were doing even when they weren’t next to each other. Having that presence ripped away knocks Liam off-kilter. It’s the same for the entire band, but the biggest challenge for Liam.

He pretends to adjust his snapback to hide the fact that he’s trying to blink back the tears in his eyes, all the while keeping his gaze lowered. He feels Niall put an arm around his waist, tugging him close and patting him comfortingly on his back. Niall covers it up as something playful instead of comforting in order to appease the crowd. Harry and Louis check up on him through supportive glances and small smiles for the remainder of the concert.

When they get to the American leg of their tour, it isn’t any easier. They’re all relaxing in the same hotel room, and Liam comes across a video that makes him laugh while scrolling on his laptop. The excitement overwhelms him to the point that he doesn’t even think before he exclaims “Zayn, c’mere, look at this!”

Niall and Harry immediately pause mid-conversation, Louis diverts his attention from the video game he’s playing, and a tense silence falls in the room. Liam’s smile gets wiped off his face when he realises and _oh_. Right. He can’t look at any of the boys, can’t face Harry’s sympathy, Louis’ sadness or Niall’s discomfort. So he stumbles away from them and into the balcony for some fresh air, feeling his hands shake of their own accord as he tries to steady himself.

He had imagined so many reunions with Zayn in the months after his departure. He held onto a glimmer of hope that he would go into whatever stadium they were performing at for the night and Zayn would be there like he had never left. In each version, Liam would have his arms around him, squeezing him tight and burying his face in his shoulder. Zayn would tell him that he was sorry for ever leaving Liam and that he would never make that mistake again. 

It’s also the smallest of things Zayn left behind that set Liam off–- like coming across one of his random doodles he had left on the tour bus that he had drawn when he was bored ( _‘that alien is sick’ ‘you think so?’_ ), finding the red plaid shirt they shared at the bottom of his bag (‘ _i like this shirt, it smells like you’_ ), and even a giant pack of gummy bears that they had stashed in the cupboard (‘ _you know the red ones are my favourite babe’_ ).

Liam knows that Zayn has reached out to the other boys, that he talks to Niall and Harry. He’d passed by Niall’s bunk bed in the tour bus and heard Zayn’s muffled voice on facetime when Niall thought he was asleep. He’d caught Harry reading a text on his phone, glancing at Liam after with a troubled look on his face. Only Louis has been adamant at not contacting him back, and whether it’s more due to his personal feelings or his loyalty to Liam, he isn’t sure.

And it’s… he’s not _angry_ , of course, they’re all best mates, but Liam was Zayn’s favourite, he thinks almost spitefully. The first person he went to when he had exciting news, anything interesting to share, or to just spend time with. But now he doesn’t know anything about Zayn or how he’s feeling or what he’s doing and it kills him because he’d been so used to knowing every single thing about him for over four years. He could possibly find out if he asked, but he doesn’t. He tells himself that if Zayn wanted him to know, then he would have initiated it.

Liam tries not to pay attention to the way Louis and Harry look at him. He sees the defeated, questioning glances they give him from the corner of his eye, like they aren’t quite sure what to do or say about the topic, so they don’t mention it at all. They've also gotten increasingly cautious about not being too affectionate in front of him, almost as if they're guilty that they can spend time together in a way that Liam no longer can with Zayn. It solves nothing, just antagonizes him; he doesn't want them to tiptoe around each other in private like they have to do in public. He's not some fragile object that’s going to break at the slightest pressure. Only Niall seems to treat him like he isn’t, because that's what Niall _does_. Liam appreciates his company the most for that reason.

“What you need Payno, is to go out, get drunk, maybe laid, and stop moping all the fuckin’ time,” Niall tells Liam one night when he barges into his hotel room after one of their shows.

“You’ve put my life into perspective, Nialler, thank you," Liam replies sarcastically with a roll of his eyes. But since he hates it, hates the stupid room that is way too big and suffocating all at once, he follows the other boy out anyway.

When Liam stumbles into the same room hours later, he falls in a heap on his bed. The night had seemed to pass by in a blur. He’d downed every shot he could get his hands on, was pressed on from all sides by a dozen different bodies on the dance floor, and flirted with every person who showed him even a second of attention. It was a good distraction, but it’s easy, without the company of his bandmate to help him forget his troubles, mixed with the lonely stillness of the room and the alcohol in his system, for it all to come back to him in waves. He fumbles for his phone, presses the first number on his speed dial (that he couldn’t bring himself to delete). It rings, and rings, and rings, ends up going into voicemail, and Liam can’t tell if he’s more disappointed or relieved.

_Hey, it’s Zayn, you know what to do._

“Zayn,” Liam slurs after the beep, voice rough. “I… I don’t really know why I’m calling you this late, or at all, but,” he pauses.

“We had a great show tonight. Played some of the new stuff, the fans loved it. For the first time in a while I genuinely felt happy on that stage. And I actually felt guilty for being happy, which is kind of fucked up, innit? ‘Cause it feels like I’m starting to move on and maybe I don’t want to let go yet.”

He pauses to get his shoes off, tossing them aside clumsily before lying back down.

“Um. I wore a banana costume that a fan threw on stage. You would’ve loved it. No, on second thought, you would’ve given me that look like you were judging me.”

Liam chuckles and it escalates to something almost hysterical, turning into a series of coughs that has him spluttering, making his eyes water and his throat feel heavier. He doesn’t say anything for what feels like ages, the sounds of his sniffles cutting through the silence. Eventually, the line at the other end beeps again.

"I miss you so much,” Liam whispers anyway, to nothing and no one, and it feels like the most painfully honest thing that he’s said in months. He throws his phone to the other side of the room like it’s burnt his hand and doesn’t bother seeing where it lands.  _Zayn was wrong_ , Liam thinks, when he said that Liam was brave. He isn’t; not nearly brave enough, at least, to deal with losing him. That costs everything.

 

 **2** **016**

 

Liam blinks his bleary eyes open. Sunlight shines through the paper thin curtains in the room and he squints against it. It takes him a minute to recall the events of the day before, but it almost seems like any regular morning when he reaches out to find that the other side of the bed is empty. The only evidence that someone else had slept in it is the assortment of rings left on the bedside table. When his vision clears, he spots Zayn standing outside, looking out to the city. He finds himself walking towards him, pushing the glass door that separates his room and the balcony to the side. The slight screeching sound causes Zayn to turn around.

“Mornin’,” Zayn says. He’s wearing Liam’s shorts, one he’d probably rummaged for as Liam was asleep.

“Can I join you?” Liam asks, isn’t sure how to form the right words to suit the not-really-friends-but-not-strangers-and-we-also-had-sex thing they’ve established.

“Sure,” Zayn murmurs, a hint of a smile playing at his lips. He takes a drag from the cigarette between his fingers. They stand in uncertainty, and Liam thinks a minute passes but it feels like thirty. He wants to light his own cigarette just for something to do, but decides against it because he's nervous, as strange as it is, and he doesn't want Zayn to bear witness to the possibility of his hands shaking as he tries to light it.

(His New Year's resolution was to quit smoking and months later he still tells himself he will.) (He won't.)

“Why are you here, Zayn?” Liam asks.

“I needed a smoke,” Zayn replies.

“You know that’s not what I mean,” Liam says impatiently, running a hand through his hair in frustration. “Why now, after all this time?”

Zayn meets his eyes, and there’s something Liam can’t quite place in his expression-- something that teeters between agitation and contemplation.

“I, um, I woke up last week and just went over the things that I’ve done the past year, with the album and tour. It's been fucking sick, yeah, it’s everything I ever wanted. These people from the industry started to look at me like I was _something_ , like I made a name for myself, but all I could think about was how you always looked at me like that. Even when we were on the X Factor and I didn’t understand why ‘cause I had no idea what I was doing.”

Liam gives him a thoughtful look, recalling the memories from years ago. “I was in awe of you. I told you that I thought you were incredible and I meant it.”

“I know,” Zayn says, softer this time. He steps closer and Liam feels his heart race. “It made me realise how much I missed you.”

Liam tenses, Zayn’s words making him feel cold all over. “No. You don’t get to stroll in after a year of-- of _nothing_ and say that to me.”

Zayn lets out a sigh. “Li--”

“Because _you_ left me, Zayn,” Liam interrupts, voice raised, but it cracks under the weight of his emotions. “I’d never have wanted you to stay in the band if that meant sacrificing your happiness. You knew that I would’ve been there for you no matter what. You _knew_  and you cut off ties with me anyway.”

"I wanted to call, I thought about it all the time,” Zayn admits. “You were the biggest part of the life I was leaving behind. I was going to be away from you all the time, so I thought that if we broke up, it would be easier for me to handle that but it wasn’t. I wanted to take it back right after you walked out the door.”

Liam feels anger take control of him. “So, what? Did you think that telling me all this now would make a difference?”

“I just-- I want you to understand that I never meant for anything to happen the way it did. I was bringing the band down and I didn’t want to do that anymore, but _none_ of it was easy for me. I have so many regrets.”

Zayn gazes at Liam, hoping for some form of understanding from him, but whatever he sees on Liam’s face doesn’t appease him. He slumps his shoulders.

“Do you remember the voicemail you left me a few months ago?” he muses. “You said that you could feel yourself moving on and you didn't want to let go.”

Liam nods. “I was fixated with the idea of it being the five of us till the end for a really long time, I guess. When I finally allowed myself to accept the reality that it was never going to be the same between us, it became so much easier. That emptiness, that numbness was still there, but it didn’t feel like it was suffocating me anymore. And then you showed up here all of a sudden, and I-- I’m so confused.”

Liam tears his eyes away from Zayn’s perturbed expression.

“I felt the same way. Every time I was on stage, it was-- it was never the same. I dealt with it soon enough but I put everything into my music so that I wouldn't let myself drown from how lonely I felt. I know it’s a lot to ask, but I don’t want us to skirt around each other. You're still my best mate,” Zayn says. Liam’s chest constricts and he tries to quell the surge of panic ripping through him.

“I don’t know if I can,” Liam confesses. “I-- um.” He presses his palms together to stop them from trembling. He races to the bathroom and locks himself in, not wanting Zayn to see him like this-- to see the damage that he’d inflicted on Liam. It feels like something is stuck in his windpipe when he tries to take counted breaths to calm his racing heartbeat.

“Li?” He hears Zayn call out worriedly from the other side of the door. “Liam, you okay? I’m sorry if I said-- I didn’t mean to upset you.”

Zayn’s words do nothing to help lift the pressure that’s pushing against his chest. Tears stain his cheeks as he slides his body down the nearest wall until he’s seated on the floor. He bites on his bottom lip so hard that it draws blood.

“Liam,” Zayn says again when he doesn’t respond.

“Leave me alone, Zayn,” Liam gets out, voice heavy.

“Don't do this Liam. Talk to me.” The doorknob rattles as he tries to get it open.

“No, please just-- please go,” Liam says with more force this time.

“Okay,” Zayn relents after a minute when it becomes clear that Liam isn't going to let him in. “I'm sorry.”

Liam takes a big gulp of air, listens hard as Zayn walks away from the door, the sound of his footsteps getting progressively softer the further he goes.

He replays the earlier conversation in his head. It gives him a bit of peace, knowing for certain that Zayn had been affected by the break up almost as much as he was. He is also aware of the fact that he could never hate Zayn -- is still hopelessly, desperately in love with him -- knows that he would still offer him his heart on a silver platter, no questions asked, because he’s that far gone for him and has been for years. But he’s scared of getting hurt again. The world had continued to spin about its own axis but Liam's world was knocked down and torn apart. He wouldn’t be able to rebuild it twice.

He doesn’t know how long he stays in the bathroom, but it feels like hours. When he calms down enough to get out, it’s to an empty apartment, with no trace that Zayn was even there. He needs a distraction, so he leaves to meet the person who can give him exactly that; Louis. He had told Liam that he would be at the studio all day while Niall and Harry are away for golf. Liam nearly calls out for Louis when he gets there, but stops himself just as he turns the corner to see Zayn in the room with him. A part of him is surprised and the other is cursing his luck.

He moves back so he can see and hear the both of them from his spot, neither of them aware of his presence.

“... and it can’t be that simple,” Louis says.

“It is, though. You, and the boys, the band-- it’s where it all began. Not having the four of you around with me, it was lonely as fuck, a lot of the time.”

“Don’t tell me going solo has made you soft, Malik,” Louis jests.

“Twat,” Zayn retorts, but he nudges Louis’ shoulder good-naturedly. Louis' smile transitions into a slight grimace, like he isn’t sure what their boundaries are after all that has happened.

“We managed, without you around. For Liam, it... He was never the same after you left. He cared so much about you even after you broke his heart,” Louis utters.

“I know,” Zayn replies, gaze transfixed on the ground.

“Whatever you think you’re expecting from him now--”

“I don’t expect anything from him. He wants nothing to do with me anyway. He won’t have to worry about me hurting him again,” Zayn adds. Louis simply gazes at him for a bit, as if assessing him.

“Didn't tell him that you’re going back to L.A., then?” Louis asks.

Zayn shrugs in response, a tell that he doesn’t want to talk about the topic anymore. Louis lets out a tut of disapproval, but keeps mum. Neither of them speak for a minute, but it isn’t uncomfortable. Liam is reminded of how they’d spend their time after shows sitting in companionable silence in their tour bus, listening to whatever artist they’re in the mood for that night, and that was enough for them.

“I'm happy you called,” Louis says, so softly that Liam almost doesn't catch it. “Maybe you could come round, see the family some time. Ernest and Doris have gotten so big. Menaces, those two.”

"Just like their brother, then," Zayn says, letting out a chuckle. “Yeah, mate, I’d like that.”

 

**2015**

 

Liam remembers when the article announcing the band’s indefinite hiatus was first released, the headline bold and clear. The break had been a long time coming, and relief had washed over Liam because it felt like he could finally lose the weight of any upcoming tour dates, appearances, or interviews on his shoulders. Liam had opened up Twitter to a flood of notifications, read the fans’ reactions to the news, the way he often does any time something major happens (many were supportive of the hiatus but some were worried about what it could mean for the future of the band).

He had gotten the urge to tweet something reassuring; he believed they were going to be back, but he also wasn’t certain if anything would change within the next two years. All he had known at the moment was that he wanted to get back to his apartment and catch up on the sleep he’d missed from the months -– years, when it came down to it –- on tour.

London is in its usual gloomy and rainy state when Liam looks out of the car window as they leave the airport, but it doesn’t dampen his happiness at being home.

“Good to be back,” Niall pipes up from beside him.

“It is,” Liam replies, resting his head against the back of the seat and closing his eyes. The sound of the incessant tapping of Niall’s fingers against the side of the door is giving him a headache, and it makes him fidget. After some time, the car skids to a halt, signalling their arrival to Niall’s apartment. Niall turns to Liam, grasping his arm gently.

“Hey, you know you could come over to mine if you want,” Niall offers.

“I’m fine, but thanks, mate,” Liam says, and he’s grateful that Niall checks on him without fail every time they’re back home, he is, but he’s _fine_.

“Call me if you need anything,” he reminds Liam before pulling him into a hug.

When Liam reaches his house in Surrey, he stands outside the door for what feels like the longest time. He’d been back in the UK since Zayn left the band, but he’d stayed in London, so he doesn’t know what to expect, being back at this house. He represses the voice in the back of his head, the mantra of _Zayn, Zayn, Zayn_ , because it’s not _their_ house anymore.  He places his hand around the handle and retracts it more times than he can count, before deciding that he’s being ridiculous and that _you’re a grown adult, damn it, you can do this_. He carefully pushes the door open.

As he steps foot into the house, he can already tell that there’s something off about it, something different, and it isn’t a welcome change. His dogs are being taken care of by his family back in Wolverhampton, so it's empty and too quiet. He leaves his bags by the door, making a mental note to unpack his things the next morning before he gets lazy and leaves them as they are for weeks like he’d done before. He drags himself up the flight of stairs and to his bedroom, falling asleep almost as soon as his head touches the pillow.

 

***

 

_“You’re wearing my shirt again,” Liam comments when Zayn comes into the living room and settles himself on the sofa next to Liam, snuggling close to him._

_“They’re more comfortable than mine,” Zayn argues. “And I’m out of my own clothes, I’ll get ‘em tomorrow.”_

_“Move in with me,” Liam says suddenly._

_He had wanted to ask Zayn to make it official for weeks now, because he visited the house so often that it already seemed like their place instead of just Liam’s. He had thought out an elaborate plan for it, but he realized he had never felt more at home than when he was lazing around with Zayn, watching a Batman film for the umpteenth time, which made it a perfect moment._

_For a brief second, Liam wildly thinks that Zayn’s going to storm out of the house, but he simply pushes himself up so that he’s facing Liam. “What?”_

_“Um, you practically live here anyway, so I thought we could stay together. Like, properly.”_

_Zayn’s face lights up, and he leans forward to cup Liam’s face in his hands, giving him a quick kiss. Liam feels all his worries melt away._

_“Thought you’d never ask, babe,” Zayn says when he pulls back. They spend the rest of the night ignoring the film to share sweet kisses and cuddles and the entire time Liam thinks that,_ yeah. This is perfect.

 

***

 

Liam gets up in the late afternoon the next day with a pounding headache. He takes a long shower and changes into something comfortable. After accepting that he can’t delay the inevitable any longer, he finally plucks up the courage to take a good look around the house.

It is emptier -- not just literally -- and it hits him, the fact that he hadn’t realized just how much of a presence Zayn had created when he moved in with him all those years ago until there weren’t any reminders of him around anymore. Not his stacks of paint and easels in the spare room where he used to draw, nor his collection of superhero movies and comics in the living room for their nights in, even something as small as his hoodie thrown lazily on the couch. It feels like a lifetime has passed since then.

For the next few weeks, Liam moves on autopilot. He takes each day as it comes, staying up late into the night, only going out when he has to get groceries. He generally avoids social media, doesn’t pick up any calls or answer messages except to update his parents and the rest of the boys that he’s conscious.

When Liam can't stand the solitude, he travels to Wolverhampton with a heavy duffel bag and an even heavier heart. He knows that he visits when he can, but it’s not _enough_ , it could never be, and the guilt is almost too much to bear when his mother pulls him close, telling him he was missed dearly by both her and his father, and everything that has changed since the last time he'd made it back. In a way, it gives him a sense of serenity that he hasn't felt in a long time. He just wishes he could shake away the hollow feeling in his chest that only one person can fill.

 

**2016**

 

 _It’s during the Up All Night tour when Liam realises Zayn could want something more with him than just friendship. He notices that Zayn doesn't treat him in the same way he treats the other boys; he's gentler, more attentive to whatever he's saying, and he looks at Liam like he's... special, somehow. It's strange -- Liam doesn't think he's worth being looked at like that -- so he'd_ _assumed it's just because they're the closest to each other in the band._

 _It all changes as time goes on and he_ _starts feeling the same way back. Every touch from Zayn makes his heart pound erratically_ _and he has to stop himself from talking about him when it’s all he wants to do. The distinction between friendship and relationship becomes blurred, but he doesn't know how to make the first move._

_They're playfighting in their hotel room one day, moving about until Zayn ends up straddling him._

_“C'mon then, c'mon,” Zayn teases and he doesn't expect it when Zayn leans down in the spur of the moment to press their lips together. He's too shocked to react at first, but he reaches out to hold Zayn's body in place and_   _kisses him back._

 _When they pull away, all they can do is smile and stare, like they're seeing one another for the first time. Liam feels dazed with exhilaration. If there's one thing that he's sure of in that moment, it's that he w_ _ants Zayn._ _He wants it all with him._

 

***

 

Liam flies to L.A., making sure that he’s not spotted when he leaves the airport. It’s been a few days since he’d overheard Louis and Zayn’s conversation, and he stands outside Zayn’s house, restless and nervous. He has a flashback to the time Zayn had stood outside his own apartment, and it’s as if they’ve come full circle. He rings the doorbell and steps back. After a few seconds, he hears the loud barks of a dog from inside the house, followed by Zayn’s voice. It’s faint, but it’s him, and it makes Liam’s heart feel like it’s doing somersaults in his chest.

“Relax, Rhino, it’s probably Malay.”

The door swings open, but Zayn still has his attention directed inside the house. Rhino barks even louder at the sight of Liam. “Shh, Rhino, calm down, boy. I’ll give you a treat later, alright?”

“I think Rhino remembers me,” Liam blurts.

Zayn whips his head around when he hears Liam’s voice, eyes widening. “Liam?”

Zayn’s hair is ruffled like he’d just woken up. He has a batman shirt on (Liam is sure it’s one of his own that he never returned), sweatpants hanging low on his hips.

“Can I?” Liam asks, motioning towards Rhino.

“Yeah, of course,” Zayn steps aside to allow Liam to enter. He crouches down to pet the dog.

“Who’s a good boy? Did you miss me, buddy?” Liam coos as Rhino jumps about excitedly at his presence.

“He hasn't changed a bit,” Liam comments.

“Pretty sure he's gotten heavier,” Zayn looks on fondly as Rhino runs out to the garden, something else having caught his attention. Liam giggles.

“That's ‘cause you always sneak him extra treats and--” he cuts himself off. _I haven't been here to stop you from doing that._

Zayn reaches out to scratch the back of his neck, like he isn’t sure what to do with his hands. He ends up crossing his arms over his body, his go-to defense mechanism. “I, um, I didn't think I'd see you again.”

“You left London,” Liam states.

“You didn't come all the way to L.A. for me,” Zayn responds incredulously.

“I did. You’re all I can think about.”

Zayn leans against the kitchen counter, lifting his head to meet Liam’s eyes. “I shouldn't have gone to see you. It reminded me of what I had, what I could’ve had with you, but I was too scared.”

“Yeah, well, you always run when things get tough, why should this be any different?” Liam accuses.

“Don't do that,” Zayn snaps. “Don't make me out to be the bad guy here. I tried and _you_ pushed me away this time.”

“Because I felt like I was doing fine without you, finally,” he says, eyes brimming with tears. “And you ruined everything.”

“Exactly, Liam, I want to make up for my mistakes but it won't erase the fact that I've already lost you.”

Liam sighs. It’s not an argument he wants.

“That’s the thing. You never lost me, Zayn,” he says softly, like it’s a secret he’s admitting. “I was always yours.”

Liam sees something close to hope reflected in Zayn’s eyes, but also worry; worry of not doing, saying, _being_ what he needs. “What are you saying?”

“I’m saying... that I’m fucked up. For many reasons. Mostly you. But I want us to try again. You’re-- we're worth it to me. It's not going to be easy but I’m all in, if you are.”

“I am,” Zayn says. “God, Li, of course I am. I love you.”

“I love you too.” Liam steps closer to him, cupping his face in his hands. Zayn puts his arms around Liam, squeezing his torso lightly. Liam captures Zayn’s lips with his own in a slow, gentle kiss. They break apart and Zayn is looking at him in the same way he did after their first kiss years ago. The knowledge that at least some things stay the same brings him solace.

“I promise I’ll hold on this time,” Zayn says, and Liam believes him.


End file.
